


Just a Meeting

by WhiteSky1999



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9079669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteSky1999/pseuds/WhiteSky1999
Summary: Link had to find the famous Cross Marian, a redhead with too many secrets around him. He found a redhead, but he wasn’t the General he was searching for. All in all, tho, it was an interesting experience.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This my gift for @gunsforhands-dgm, for the @dgmsecretsanta2016.

“We will meet here at eight o’clock.”

He watched with impassive and serious eyes as the apparently normal man walked down the street. But he knew better. Those steps were too controlled, his back was too straight and he moved silently through the crowd. But the people didn’t notice him or his companions. They were professionals. Not like him. He was just a new recruit, an orphan boy who had lived on the streets. But not anymore.

He sighed softly and tried to warm his hands with his breath. A white cloud came out of his mouth. He put his hands in his jacket pockets and looked around. His boss, the man who took _them_ out of these cold streets, trusted him enough to send him on an important mission with some of the elite members. He could pretend to be calm, it was always easy to have a blank expression with strangers, but he couldn’t deny that he was nervous.

_“We must find Cross Marian,”_ they said. He hadn’t met the man in person, but they had shown him pictures. He knew how to search for him. He had always known how to search for things (food usually), the only difference now was that it was a person. “A slippery man full of secrets,” from what he had heard around Central.

The trip to England had been fast, mainly because the Crows were determined to catch Cross as soon as possible. He hadn’t minded. It was weird to be apart from his friends, his family. They always trained together, they always took care of their bruises after the training sessions together. To be kilometres of land and sea apart from them… made him uneasy.

He parted his blond hair and tried not to collide with anyone while he walked. It was still weird for him how golden his hair was. In the past, it had been always dirty, always an unnatural shade of brown and black. The grounds of the alleys or even the rocks of the German churches weren’t very clean.

Howard Link, the name _he_ gave him. He almost cried when they gave him a full name, but he didn’t falter under that dark and stern gaze. He kept his eyes to the front, serious, even when he wanted to cry and laugh and smile. Some minutes after, he did just that with his friends.

No matter where he looked, he couldn’t see any trace of red hair in the crowd. He did notice some flyers for a circus and some performers in the street doing various tricks. Link had always been patient, so he just kept looking around. He considered asking someone if they had seen him. The information the Crow had might have been incorrect or the man could have gone to another place.

“Mum, can we go to the circus?” Link jumped and turned towards the voice, but just sighed when he saw that it was a child. He had always been jealous of them, children with loving parents and a roof to call home. He turned away again. Maybe he could check that circus.

London was a very big city, with different buildings and a lot of shops of every size. Link tried not to get distracted with the colourful window displays. He noticed that there was a lot of pollution in some areas when he got further from the centre of the city. Maybe it could be the reason why a lot of people of that city were so pale.

He finally arrived at a spacious park. There was snow in every tree and bush and the river had some snowflakes floating in the water. It was beautiful. Link stayed immobile for some seconds, trying to memorize every little detail of the white scenery.

“How was it? People wantin’ to come?” Link turned his head towards a fat man who had a curled moustache. He was speaking with a colourful clown. Even from that distance, Link could see the wide smile on his painted face.

“Yes, I think so. But the other clown -how was his name? – is not in a good mood for some reason,” answered the clown. He tilted his head and scratched his cheek like a child would. Link frowned. That clown was weird. And there was some kind of strange feeling around him.

“Ah, whatever,” smiled the fat man.  Link fathomed that he was the ring master. “Just go and rest for now. We have a big performance tonight.”

Link used the trees as hiding places. He didn’t exactly know why he was hiding, but he didn’t want to risk being caught. Adults usually never took children seriously. Maybe he could find someone who would tell him if he saw a red-haired man, with glasses and the right side of his face hidden. He moved silently towards the smaller tents around the enormous one in the middle. He saw the colourful clown walking around with a skip in his step and whistling to himself. He frowned and stared at the man for some seconds, but in the end he decided that he didn’t feel right for some reason and he wouldn’t ask him.

He was behind some bushes when another clown appeared. Link made sure that he couldn’t be seen. That clown had an annoyed and furious expression on his face, his costume was in disarray. He was mumbling something to himself and Link noticed his irregular steps. Link supposed he had a hungover.

The clown didn’t move from his spot. Link waited patiently, but when the clown’s blue eyes moved to him, he nearly jumped. His heart beat so loud to his ears that he feared that the clown would notice him. The man frowned, but his eyes moved to something else. Finally, the clown limped through the snow towards one of the tents, grumbling under his breath.

Link sighed and let his shoulders fall. Still looking at the tent with distrust, he took a step backwards. He jumped and yelped when his foot collided with something. He looked back with alarm and shaking hands at the ready. No. He didn’t collide with some _thing_ , he had collided with some _one_.

That someone was small and his thin legs where covered with snow that had fallen from a tree. Link tried to calm his heart and took deep breaths. The freezing air burned his lungs. When he was calm again, he crouched down on the snow. With insecure hands, he started to clean the small body off snow. He had a bad feeling about this, but he wasn’t new to abuse. Specially on street children.

He sighed when he finished and took a look at the child. His hair was a dirty reddish brown colour, tied on top of his head with a ripped string of leather. His clothes were some sizes too big and not really appropriate for the start of winter. He bit his lip. The child was some years younger than him, maybe six or seven years old. He looked at his right hand on top of the snow. His fingertips were an alarming purple.

He heaved his small body on his back and started walking quickly around the circus grounds, hoping that the team had a source of heat somewhere. When he got close to the bigger tent, he saw a heater and he ran there, making sure that the child on his back didn’t fall. He wouldn’t admit it, but the child reminded him of how he and his family were not so long ago.

He kept them hidden behind some crates, but the heat still reached them. Link sighed again. He just hoped the child knew something about the red-headed man he was supposed to be searching for.

It was some time later that the child started to move and groan. Link kept still. He saw a red hand before the long sleeve of the dirty white shirt fell down again. Link averted his brown eyes. A deformity. That was why they left him. He wouldn’t comment on it.

“Who’re ya?” asked the child. Link looked at him with a blank expression. He had a thick British accent, which was to be expected, given where they were. “Were ya who… took me here?”

“I was,” answered Link calmly. He sighed. Better not to say his real name. “My name is Crow. Yours?”

The child hesitated. Link moved away and frowned. He didn’t have any name. His blood family must have left him when he was really small if they didn’t even give him any name. His heart ached, but he reminded himself that there was nothing he could do.

“People call me Red,” said the child finally. He sat with his back against a crate. He grimaced and Link noticed a trail of blood dripping down the corner of his mouth. He also noticed some freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Who did that to you?” he asked, because he was curious. Link started when two mistrustful eyes turned to him. They were a stormy grey that seemed to reflect every colour around them. Then the child snorted.

“Why would I tell ya?” His tone was blank and tired. It didn’t belong to a child that young. Link had never met someone who was that tired of living. Link fidgeted under the silver gaze until it moved away to the tent’s entrance. “Would ya do something ‘bout it?”

“I can’t,” said Link slowly. The redhead snorted again and turned away from him. Link kept quiet. He wasn’t so sure anymore if he should ask him about the General.

“What do ya want?” Link gazed at him, frowning. Red gave him an unfriendly gaze. He still had his back to him. Link sighed softly.

“Why would I want something?” asked Link finally. Red’s eyes hardened and Link could only wonder what he had been through.

“Everybody wants somethin’,” explained the child. It was like he was trying to teach Link a lesson. “People that are dressed like you, all nice, always want somethin’ from us circus folk.”

Link stilled. The he looked down at his good clothes, clean golden hair and leather gloves. He frowned. He was one of those rich people who didn’t have any worries. Or, at least, he looked like one. The truth was different from that. He was a soldier. He wasn’t a spoiled brat.

“I’m not one of those rich brats,” snapped Link. Red arched one eyebrow and turned to him. Link saw another flash of red skin, but he was too focused on the mocking expression that his new companion had.

“Then, two-spots, what’re all these fancy clothes ya got here?” said Red. Link’s hands flew towards his forehead and covered the two spots that were tattooed when he started to train as a Crow.

“Just because I wear these now, it doesn’t mean I didn’t live in the streets,” answered Link. His cheeks were burning, his hands were shaking with annoyance and he could hear his own German accent slipping. Apparently, so could Red, because he arched an eyebrow again and he sat back, staring at him.

Link felt uneasy, seeing Red analysing him with his cold stormy eyes. He could see unhappiness there, but also loneliness. After a while, Red huffed and crossed one arm. Link frowned briefly. There was something with that left arm of his. Maybe it was a deformity and a disability. His job in the circus must have been hard, with only one arm.

“What do ya want, then?” asked Red again. Link blinked. The redhead huffed again and pointed at him with his pale hand. “I asked what ya wanted! You never denied that part.”

Link made a face at him, but then sighed. His patience was running low with that child, which was something weird. He had learned how to be in control of his own emotions, but this child was getting on his nerves like his friends did. It was too weird.

“Have you seen a red-headed man, with glasses and the right side of his face covered?” asked Link. Red stared at him, then at the entrance of the tent, thinking. Link pressed his back against the crate when he heard someone getting closer to them, but then he relaxed when they passed by and exited the tent.

“There’ve been some redheads ‘round,” mentioned Red. “But I haven’t seen anyone like tha’.”

Link murmured softly. He was disappointed, he had though that a circus would have the area more controlled. He hadn’t asked an adult, but the ‘street-rats’ were usually the ones with most information. He himself had sold information in exchange for some bread at Berlin.

“Why do ya need him?” spoke the redhead. Link gazed at him and then huffed.

“None of your business,” he replied. Red hummed and then he stretched. He stopped half way when he grimaced. He touched gingerly his ribs with his good hand. Link tilted his head. “Are you hurt?”

“N-no.” The answer was too quick and his voice was pained. Link got up, shook the dirt off his pants and moved towards the redhead. He backed against another crate and his eyes moved nervously around the tent. “Seriously, I’m not.”

“Yeah, right,” murmured Link softly. He kneeled at his side. “Move your arms up.”

“I can’t…” mumbled the redhead. His head was down. Link gazed at the immobile arm. The red skin was hidden by the big shirt. “My arm has been paralyzed since forever, I can’t…”

Link cut him off when he grabbed his wrist with one hand and lifted it. Link touched carefully his rib cage, ignoring the soft groans and the tenseness of his body. He didn’t gaze again at the arm. He did look at his face once. Red’s cheeks were pink and his freckles stood out more than ever.

“Your ribs aren’t broken,” he explained calmly. He backed again against the other crate after letting down the immobile arm on the floor. Red fidgeted, doing an act of straightening his clothes.

Link didn’t voice what more he noticed. The other child was too skinny and malnourished. He tried to convince himself that there was nothing he could do for him, ignoring his helplessness. The younger one couldn’t be a Crow like him; not with that arm.

There was a tense silence between them. Link kept his eyes up, listening intently for footsteps. He could see how Red sometimes glanced at him with distrust and maybe confusion. Link suspected that he was curious about why he didn’t hit or yell at him because of his arm. He sighed softly (he was doing a lot of that lately).

“Who is that clown who is dressed in all kind of colours?” asked Link after some minutes. The redhead jumped and looked at him with confusion. Link was about to specify more, but then his eyes lit up with recognition.

“That’s a new one. Came ‘bout a month ago,” explained the child. Then he frowned. “He feels weird, but I don’t really know him.”

He didn’t say it out loud, but Link knew that he would have ended with ‘and I don’t want to’. He nodded.

“He feels weird, yeah,” murmured Link under his breath. The redhead looked at him with a strange expression but, before he could understand what it was, the child looked away again.

The silence returned and Link put his hands on his pockets. His hands were freezing and he couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers. When he gained feeling again, he touched something solid. Ah, yes. The Crow had given him some money for his lunch. He had some coins. He took some of them in his fist. Then he looked at his companion. He wasn’t paying attention to him; he was picking at his dirty shirt.

He couldn’t do anything about the people of the circus, but he could be of some help. But, he knew the mind-set of most street urchins. He wouldn’t accept money because of charity. Maybe he wouldn’t even accept it if he said that it was payment for his information, arguing that he didn’t give real information. The only way… was for him to find it in a way in which he couldn’t return it.

He stretched and stood up. Immediately, the silver eyes were upon him. It was going to be difficult. The redhead was really observant. It was somehow unnerving. Like he was able to see right through him, his lies, his thoughts.

“I should be going,” he said at last. The other child huffed. “I have places to attend. Thank you for your help.”

Link walked slowly to the entrance of the tent. The coins burned his hand. He needed to do it. A laugh that sounded that a cough made him stop. He turned around. The redhead looked quite surprised with his action, but he was fast to turn it into a scowl. Link used that moment to drop the coins on a cloth that he knew Red would have to pick up.

“Ya don’t have to sound so uptight, if ya really are like me,” said the redhead. He cocked an eyebrow. Link did the same. He would deny it, but there was a connection between them. The coins glinted from his spot. Then Red closed his eyes for a moment and, when he opened them again seconds later, his gaze pierced Link and he looked much older. “Crow isn’t your real name, innit? What is?”

Link would have stumbled had he been walking. He blinked with surprise and his eyes widened. He had been so careful, hiding his true identity, however… who was this child? He stared at him with the same distrust as the redhead moments before. Someone who could read him like a book. If that child had been involved in the Holy War… he would be dangerous.

But then he caught the playful glint in his grey eyes and he smiled unconsciously. He huffed dramatically.

“That is for me to know, and for you to never find out,” he said with a slight tone of mischief and playfulness. A tone he only used with his friends. He wondered if it had only been the knowledge that both of them had been ‘street-rats’ what had made them have a strange connexion.

Red let out another huff that sounded like a laugh. Link’s smile softened when he turned around again to leave. He really hoped that, next time they met, the redhead had a real name and a real reason to live, other than spite. He hoped that he stayed true to himself and proved that street urchins can do whatever they want.

“Have you found Cross Marian?” asked the Crow that afternoon, when the houses were lit up with an orange hue and workers returned home with tired faces and slumped shoulders.

“I have seen some redheads.” The image of the redheaded and freckled child passed his mind. He resisted the urge to smile and kept his expression neutral. “But none of them was the General.”

The Crow grunted and they started walking towards the train station, Link on his heels.

…

Years later, Link stared at the teenager in front of him. White and messy hair, pale skin, the posture of a cautious and expert fighter. A faint group of freckles, some of them cut by the scar. A red hand. And a pair of stormy silver-grey eyes that pierced him and stared at his soul, like he knew all his secrets. Eyes too mature for a teenager. He knew those eyes.

“I’m Inspector Howard Link. I will be supervising you.”


End file.
